Dirty Little Secret
by arohalove
Summary: One shot. Title pretty much says it all...uh figuratively. WR


This is actually to test things out as its my first posted fan fiction. Its a one shot I wrote a while back one night when I was bored and listening to All American Rejects. You'll notice it doesn't really have much to do with the song and its written in present tense which drives me nutz sometimes so if you're bugged by it, I understand. As I said, its my firstfanfiction so if you must reply pleasedon't flame me.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men and never will.

Dirty Little Secret

Sound of approaching steps. Soft, delicate steps walking toe to heel slowly across the oriental carpet so as not to make any noise. A rustle of nylon against microfiber is the steady smooth trace of gloved fingers as they pass the arm of a couch across the hall. She's wearing freshly laundered sweats. The detergent laced with bleach lingers in the fabric, lingers on her body that approaches. Now her shadow slides across the floor while she passes the light in the hall, growing as she draws near in an elongated silhouette of neck, torso, legs and then feet.

"Evenin'," she breathes, standing at the entrance. White strands gently curl around her rose cheek.

He abruptly closes the refrigerator door, the room suddenly dark again. "You're up late."

"So are you." She tucks the wayward strands behind her ears. "Lookin' for a midnight snack?"

"I'm just heading back, actually."

"Oh." It's a soft, disappointed noise, while her eyes lower from his glowering brows to an empty plate on the counter. "I couldn't sleep. Been too…distracted."

An aching churn twists in his chest at her words. He bites it down and coughs. "School day tomorrow. You should go to bed."

Her head snaps upward. His figure is shadowed: a tall, dark outline lit slightly by moonlight that spills through the bank of windows behind him. Yet her eyes find his easily and shoot a loaded gaze under long full lashes. He catches his breath. She steps toward him, bare toes on the tile to which his feet are now cemented.

"But I'm not tired." She whispers.

Anticipation. It mingles in the air with her heady scent that is spiced with apricot face scrub and body warmed cotton. Her pulse rises with each step, warming her, brewing her scent, wafting it from her limbs in aromatic clouds. His vision turns hazy as she rests her thin nylon glove against his chest, herhand warm even through his shirt. The touch crackles in his ears.

Freshly laundered sweats. They don't hug her figure. They're loose, comfortable. The waist band rides low around her hips revealing the dark line of her underwear because the small t-shirt she wears doesn't reach that far. He closes his eyes, reluctant to rove her body thoroughly, unwilling to examine the curves beneath that white shirt. Surely in darkness he'll find a source of composure? Won't it be easier to find the words 'back off' if he can't see the little creature who presses closer? But without one sense another is enhanced and now he finds the natural perfume of her body overwhelming so that he's drawing one long, deep breath.

Shallow gasp. Her finger is tracing down his stomach.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" It was _his_ voice, not hers.

The finger hesitates, stops and then falls away. When he opens his eyes it's to find her brows knitted together, perplexed. "Not even close." then seduction curls around her smile while she entwines her arms about his neck, hot breath meeting his chin. "And you don't want me to, do you?"

"They'll find out," It's a gruff whisper and hands are at her waist now, ten fingers digging into her small hips though he tells himself to step away. "They'll get rid of me if we do this again."

This? Again? He pulls her up against him meeting her mouth. Tasting the sultry hallow with his tongue until she pushes away.

"Careful." She pants.

His voice is weak, not from her touch, but from his desire. "Go to bed."

"Yours or mine?"

He's ignoring her sliding hands, traveling his chest once more. He's disregarding the new scent erupting from her body. He's forgetting the slippery feel of her in the garage this afternoon. He whimpers. "God Marie, what have you done to me?"

"Just one last time, Logan. They won't find out." She assures, betting on the Professor's honor.

A soft caress to the base of his neck roughly brings her hips to him once more and she giggles quietly against his shoulder. Whose hands are roving now? Whose touch is making the other gasp? But still he's groaning reproachfully at himself. She lifts onto her toes, chest sliding up his and brushes her tongue across his lips.

"Don't worry. It's our little secret."

Now he's walking down the corridor to the south wing staircase following soft toe to heel steps against the wood floors. Following a gently swaying ponytail, whose white streaks he can see tucked behind her ears. She has his hand laced into her fingers at her back. And she's pulling. This little girl is pulling him up the stairs. She'll be pulling him into his room when they clear the landing. But he'll be pulling her into the bed.

Its their little secret. Their dirty little secret.


End file.
